


Tate or Treat

by stellugh



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 15:44:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2627228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellugh/pseuds/stellugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>October 31st. The one night that the souls trapped in the infamous Murder House can roam free amongst the living. Tate and Violet make the most of their opportunity to leave the house for one night. Fluffy one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tate or Treat

"Trick or treat?" asked three innocent children, dressed in the most adorable "monster" costumes possible, stood unknowingly on the doorstep of the Murder House, where realmonsters resided. Well, not  _monsters_ per se, but, indeed, ghosts that inhabited the gothic manor. 

Vivien Harmon flashed the kids a smile, holding out a plastic pumpkin, filled to the brim with diabetes-inducing candy. Each of the children took their desired piece of candy before thanking the lady at the door, and leaving on their quest to get as many sweet treats as they could. Vivien grinned lightly, nostalgia washing over her body. She remembered when Violet was that young: she still  _was_ young. However, now she was unable to grow any older, she was an eternal youth. 

Silently shaking the saddening thoughts from her skull, she glanced over the lawn. Chad sure had done a great job of getting ready for the occasion. Pumpkins were scattered neatly along the pathway, glowing eerily, each one with a unique and precise pattern carved into them; there were skeletons, bats and spiders hanging from every possible corner of the premises. It looked like a dump site for old horror movie props, but it was undoubtedly the best looking house on the entire block.  _'Ghosts do it better.'_ Vivien thought to herself, almost chuckling aloud, before closing the door. 

"Hey, mom. Do I look okay?" Violet Harmon bounded down the never-ending staircase, and stopped in front of her mother, showcasing a black, lacy dress, that fit Violet perfectly, clinging to her figure in exactly the right places; her short and slender legs had black, knee length socks covering them and black heels on her miniature feet, the straps wrapping around her ankles like ivy. 

"Okay? You look amazing, honey!" Vivien replied with astonishment. Internally, she was so proud to have raised such a beautiful daughter, but she would never admit that to Violet: she knew how much she hated that whole loving and caring parental crap.

Before Vivien had time to say anything else, a hand snaked around Violet's waist. It was Tate. A skull painted beautifully onto his face; his, usually wild, blonde curls were slicked back and tamed by what seemed like a tonne of hair gel; he was sporting black skinny jeans and an equally as black trench coat. He and Violet looked like the most perfect couple. They just fit together so perfectly, a jigsaw puzzle that nobody else could seem to solve. 

"Ready?" Tate's low, yet soothing voice questioned his girlfriend, as he smiled lovingly down at her. 

"Of course, I can't wait to get out of this hell hole." Violet replied with a wink. Honestly, Violet loved this house and all of it's spirits, but she was trapped here infinitely, and, when she had one night to roam the streets like a normal,  _live,_ person, she was in no position to refuse an offer to escape - even if only for a matter of hours: she needed some dose of reality, to make her remember what it felt like to be alive.

"Alright, well be safe." Vivien urged her forever teen-aged daughter.

"Mom, don't worry, we're dead." Violet informed her mother, placing a hand on her shoulder mockingly. Vivien laughed aloud at her momentary stupidity, before ushering the lovers out of the Murder House.

* * *

Violet stood at the end of her driveway, clenching one hand onto the gate, and the other holding Tate's hand. She inhaled a deep, icy breath and stepped off of her lawn. _Freedom._ A huge grin slivered onto Violet's face as she left the ghostly property for the first time in a year. "So, where are we going?" Violet interrogated Tate, not wanting to be disappointed on her only night of liberation. 

"That, my lovely, is a surprise." Tate smirked at her, planting an elegant kiss onto her cold lips. Before she could object, Violet had a dark piece of fabric cloaked around her eyes. 

"What the hell, Tate?" Violet asked with annoyance, trying to reach for the blindfold and unravel it.

"I  _told_ you. It's a surprise. Now keep it on, or you're going back inside." Violet could just picture the devious smirk on her lovers face. 

"Ha ha, very funny. Fine, I'll play your little games. Let's go." Tate gripped protectively onto Violet's porcelain hand, guiding her along the roads, keeping her out of the way of the people wandering the streets in search of candy. After around 10 minutes of constant walking, they came to a halt. The floor underneath Violet's feet started sinking every so slightly, and a small gasp exited her mouth. With one swift movement, Tate undid the blindfold, letting it drop delicately to the ground.

They were at the beach.

A stray tear rolled down Violet's cheek, as she reminisced about the first "real date" that Tate had taken her on. Here. It was all the same, like she was experiencing déjà vu: there was a flickering inferno and a patch of blankets - just like on their date. It was truly extraordinary.

Violet smothered Tate in a massive hug, their bodies moulding together in perfect harmony. She leaned back and pressed light kisses all over his face. "Tate, this is so perfect! I couldn't have asked for more." Violet exclaimed. 

"Anything for my dead girlfriend." Tate chuckled, sticking his tongue out at her. Casually, Tate raised Violet's form from the ground and flung her carelessly over his shoulder. 

"Put me down," Violet commanded him, her tiny fists hammering all over his back "unless you don't want to have sex with me ever again, that is.." Without hesitance, Tate placed her back on the ground.

"You know all the right things to say, Violet Harmon." Tate bit his lip mischievously. "Y'know, last time we were here, you grabbed my dick."

"God, don't remind me. That was totally embarrassing." She rolled her eyes back in her head, as a groan escaped her fragile lips. Tate crawled over to her, so he was practically sitting on her. Violet stifled a laugh. "Smooth," she informed him, then cupped his cheeks in her petite palms, briefly touching her lips to his. Tate wanted more. Hungrily, he crashed his lips back into her, attacking her mouth, and parting her mouth with his tongue. He slid his way into her mouth, exploring its contents; he wanted to become familiar with it and memorise every last detail.

His hand retreated down to her thigh, rubbing the inside of her leg and getting dangerously close to her heat. Quickly, he darted his now wet lips to her neck, sucking and biting and the thin layer of skin: desperate to leave a bruise - to mark his territory. Short, hot breaths blanketed Tate's neck and jaw. She was getting extremely turned on, and he knew it. 

"Tate," Violet interrupted Tate's moment of utter ecstasy, "can we not do this right now?" His face contorted from one of pleasure to visible confusion, annoyance and even a hint of sadness. 

"W..What, why?" He stammered. Yes, he may have been dead. Yes, Violet was his girlfriend. However, the phobia of rejection was still deeply implanted into his heart and soul. 

"I want you  _so_ much. Honestly, I do," she began, the bewilderment becoming ever-present on his flawlessly chiselled face, "but we have sex all the time at the house. I wanted tonight to be different, something that won't remind me of being in there, but being here: right here, right now, with _you._ " Violet paused temporarily, trying to decipher what Tate was feeling. 

Was he mad? Would he leave her here? What if he thought she didn't love him? 

"I understand," he told her, sincerely, "I'm not going to force myself on you. Like I said, I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. I believe that my reason for being put on Earth was to protect and love you, Violet Harmon. Tonight is about you: not me. That's why it's got to be perfect. Besides, we can save the fun for later." His lips curled into a enticing grin, his perfect teeth on show.  _He was a thing of absolute beauty._

"The devil is beautiful." Violet whispered, her voice was almost inaudible, as if it had been blown away with the cool, autumnal breeze. Tate leaned closer to her frail figure, and pressed his lips to hers once more: the sparks were palpable. Everything about their relationship sounded like something out of some fucked-up love story, but they were so past the point of caring. They loved each other, and had until the end of time in each other's company. "So, what food is on offer? I don't care if I'm dead, I still get hungry." Violet exclaimed, an undertone of seriousness in her voice.

Tate locked his eyes onto hers, and simply just smirked: the right side of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "Why don't you go and have a look in the picnic basket over there?" He suggested, issuing to the wooden basket he had placed on the sand prior to their arrival. 

A flash of perplexity found it's way onto Violet's face, but she obeyed Tate, and looked in the hand-woven basket. She lightly traced it's frame with her fingers, observing the precision of how it was made. Her fingers slid to a gap, where she pulled open the lid. What was inside the basket sent a wave of sentimentality rushing over her body.

A black rose.

 _"I painted it black. I know how you don't like normal things."_ Memories flooded her brain.

Violet rushed over to her boyfriend. "I love it," she declared, "I love you." Once again, their lips met. They were two magnets, stuck together, never wanting to break the tenacious bond they had. 

"Violet Harmon, I love you: I'm  _in love_ with you. I'm the luckiest guy in the world to be able to spend the rest of eternity with you, cooped up in our room, listening to Nirvana and playing card games. I adore all of it. But, there is  _one_ thing I want to change," Tate proclaimed, "and that one thing is your last name. Violet, will you do the honour of marrying me and becoming Violet Langdon?" 

Violet's vision began to blur, as hot liquid poured from her eyes. "Yes, of course I will!" She managed to utter out between sobs. She slung her arms lazily around Tate's neck, letting all of her tears leak down his face too.

Tate kissed Violet once more: a kiss filled with passion, a kiss filled with love. He wiped the dampness from her face using his thumbs, and gazed into her captivating eyes. "It's you and me, Violet. For always." He smiled at her innocently, and pulled her close to him, never wanting to release his grip. 

This Halloween was definitely the best one yet.


End file.
